


discidium | Technoblade & TommyInnit

by AlexandraMariaAnna



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, JUST, Usual not a native speaker warning, another 3 am fic more likely than you think, honestly, hurt comfort i guess, i am a 21 year old woman crying over a non-existing brotherly bond, i am so fucking angry at that stream, i broke down in tears, i hope dream throws both of them into the prison so they can talk this out, man, rivalstwt won but at what cost honestly, techno stop getting betrayed challenge, this is loosely linked to caducus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28583667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraMariaAnna/pseuds/AlexandraMariaAnna
Summary: discidium (lat.); separation, the action or state of moving or being moved apart.---technoblade had every right to be upset.
Relationships: Not shipping, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 271





	discidium | Technoblade & TommyInnit

For a second Technoblade swore he heard Tommy wrong. The remnants of the community house were filled with people who kept muttering, shuffling in place, the clanking of their weapons mixing with the rushing water all around them. It would be understandable to mishear someone, even if he was standing in such close proximity to you; thus Techno remained silent for a moment, waiting for the boy to repeat himself in a way that would be understandable.

Looking back at that moment, he might have been in denial. 

No words came from Tommy after his initial statement, and with a sick, twisted feeling, Techno took the conversation into his own hands. The room - well, the remnants of one - was getting very stuffy incredibly quickly.

“Tommy, I think I might not have been clear enough,” he spoke slowly, so no context, no word would be lost to the increasing noise around them. “When I told you that you don’t have to destroy L’Manburg with me, I meant that you can sit this one out, and not switch sides on me!” 

The boy in front of him, one he learned to place his trust in over the past weeks, gripped the ornamental axe in his hand tighter.    
“What- Technoblade, what am I doing-”   
“You’re betraying me, that’s what you’re doing, Tommy!” 

He surprised even himself with how loud and desperate he was. Tommy looked straight at him, and their eyes met, Philza’s blue irises looking right through his soul. There was something in his chest that squeezed at his heart, something he thought he buried after the Manburg Pogtopia war, and it was crawling it’s way up to the back of his head, tugging at his skin, scratching at his lungs and throat, sending his brain into a frenzy. Still, he stood, arms extended in front of him like he was inviting him back into his protection, into his sanctuary. 

“Technoblade, ah- The discs! The discs-”   
“You just gave the discs to Dream! You told him to give the discs to Dream!” Techno cut in, frustrated. He wanted to scream his voicebox out about how naive and dumb Tommy was being, but the words eluded him, and he just stared at the one who inhibited his home and his life, his figure now obscured by a wall of - disappointment? No. Betrayal. Raw and scarring, opening up old, caked over wounds. The figure frowned, an expression that was so convoluted that Techno couldn’t decipher it now present on his face.

“I’ve become worse than all the people I didn’t want to be,” he said, and Techno’s arms fell limply to his sides. 

The night was so cold, and back in his home up north, Philza felt a sharp pain stab at his heart just for a split second, before it was gone, leaving the man equally as confused as concerned.

***

“Techno! Techno what the fuck are you doing!”

“Phil, you are my friend, but I need to do this. Give me a moment.”   
“No, you can’t just-”   
“I can and I will. This is my house.”

The chest shattered against the wall, spilling the contents of it on the mismatched floor. Techno was breathing heavily, his body strained from constant movement. He stomped on the debris underneath his feet, and with a loud crack, the planks that were once an oak chest fell apart, scattering across the small room. His eyes locked on the bed, and Technoblade reached for his axe, only to remember that Tommy never gave it back to him. Cursing under his breath, loudly enough for Phil to hear, he simply grabbed the poorly put together piece of furniture, and without any real effort flipped it over before breaking it in half with the heel of his boot. The frame was made out of different types of wood; who even makes something like this, even as a joke? It just hurt his eyes, and it was so Tommy that it made him sick. He turned away, facing Phil who was standing by the ladder with a worried expression, his hands crossed on his chest.

“Are you okay?”

The question was left hanging in the musky air of the basement. No one was there for a while; when Techno found out about the secret room he made Tommy move upstairs with him - underground was cold and bare, and that was no way for anyone to live for a longer amount of time. His nails dug into his palms until it stung. To think that he considered expanding the house to make him a proper room he could feel safe in. He was stupid to think that they could have lived like back in the day, when he, Tommy, Will, and Phil-

“Techno.” 

Someone grabbed his hand, unclenching it finger by finger. Techno’s fingernails were stained with blood - he pierced skin. Phil held his palm gently, rough, scarred fingers brushing over the small wounds. The room was silent, save for the sound of grass rustling outside. Finally, Phil spoke again.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked and Techno looked away, eyebrows furrowed. “I’ll listen if you need me to.” 

“I don’t think you’d enjoy things I want to say about your son,” Techno muttered, and for a split second grief flashed through Philza’s face, before shifting back into his usual, cheery persona.

“I don’t have to enjoy them. You’re hurting, and bottling it up won’t help.” 

The younger man laughed quietly, his eyes sweeping across the room.

“I don’t think I’m bottling up anything,” he spoke, and Phil sighed, watching as Techno ripped a sign off the wall and broke it over his knee. “I’m dealing with it. I’ll stop feeling this way soon enough, and we can go back to work, back to destroying a government.”

  
“Talk to me. Destruction doesn’t solve anything here.” Phil hesitated for a moment, before finishing his thought. “You’re acting just like Tommy did when Wilbur died.” 

Technoblade paused, another sign already in his hand. He looked back, and their eyes met; tired red meeting blue. 

“Ha. Funny.” he laughed, waving his hand. “Are you trying to make me feel pity for him? It’s failing.” 

“Not pity, understanding.”

Something boiled in Techno’s chest, and he stepped closer to Phil, the man not even flinching as Techno leaned down to meet him eye to eye. He was angry, fuming. Every single particle in his body was vibrating with uncontained rage, and the voices in his head were demanding Tommy’s head on a stick, but he bit his cheek until it bled, and looked for a sign of a joke in Phil’s eyes. He didn’t find it, instead realizing that his eyes are the exact same shade of blue that Tommy’s eyes were, and he looked away instantly. 

“He betrayed me, Phil. He used me after I gave him shelter, food, weapons; after I gave him myself,” he said bitterly. Philza placed a gentle hand on his shoulder; this time the touch was appreciated. “I suppose I fooled myself when I called him my friend.”

“Oh, Techno. You’re grieving.”

“No? He didn’t die-”

“You’re grieving a loss. To you, he’s dead.”

Was that it?

The house was silent as they both climbed up the ladder, leaving the carnage behind. It was loud in Techno’s head, however, thousands of voices howling a cacophony of words he couldn’t understand. There was a common melody to the cries, however, and it was one of a funeral march, ever-present as he plugged up the entrance to the basement. 

Phil was making tea in his small kitchen, and Techno walked out to the balcony, attempting to escape the musky reek of the basement that clung to his clothes even after he shook himself off, removing any dust, any remnant of the room below off his body. The sun was slowly setting, and the torches around his house sprang to life - it was a pleasant sight, twilight mixing with the golden hue of the fire. 

_ Tommy used to stand on the balcony and look in the direction of Logstedshire. His eyes were wild, and it was almost as if he was looking for someone to emerge from the snow. When he finally looked in the opposite direction, towards L’Manburg, for a moment Technoblade was glad that that country survived the war; at least Tommy had something to look forward to.  _

“Tea.”

“Thank you.”

The tea was hot and fragrant, and Techno burnt the tip of his tongue when he took a hasty sip. Phil laughed from his side, sticking his own tongue out jokingly. The corner of Techno’s mouth rose. The air was a little bit warmer. 

There was one last thing he needed to say before he could accept the fact that he was hurt by what happened at the community house. 

“Phil, will you also betray me?” he asked simply, and Phil’s face fell. He set the cup down on the railing and turned to face his friend, his eyes warm, full of August noons, evenings in libraries, swordsmanship training, and tight hugs during unbearable nights.

“Never.”

_ There was a Tommy-shaped hole in his home, but there were cornflowers blooming in the corners of it, so maybe things would be okay.  _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My eyes are falling out of my skull, it's nearly 4 am boys. Terribly sorry for the quality drop by the end, I am so tired and emotionally drained that I barely managed to make this end relatively happily. I considered angst but then I decided that I'm not going to cry tonight.  
> Anyways, as always, you can find me @SummoningFailed on Twitter, where I write exclusively in capslock and make my friends give up on me.


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